


up in the morning

by rhysgore



Category: Metal Gear
Genre: (or at the very least dubcon fantasy), Eye Trauma, M/M, Masturbation, Rape Fantasy, Skull Fucking, Violent Thoughts, brief allusion to foot fetish
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-06
Updated: 2017-09-06
Packaged: 2018-12-24 13:14:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 766
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12013509
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rhysgore/pseuds/rhysgore
Summary: sam thinks about fucking raiden's brains out





	up in the morning

**Author's Note:**

> post-africa but pre-monsoon

He’s alone late at night, lying on his uncomfortable bed, staring at the ceiling with his hand lazily tugging his half-hard cock, when he starts thinking about Jack.

 

Sam’s first reaction is to wrinkle his nose and pause his hand, but the more the cyborg twists his way into Sam’s thoughts, the more his dick perks up. Not one to really question where his interest in something comes from (at least, not in the moment), Sam shrugs and resumes his motions, jerking himself off with slow strokes, squeezing the head of his cock in the way that makes his thighs tense up and his breath come shorter.

 

“Jack…” He murmurs, tipping his head back on his pillow, thinking of the way that lithe body flexed and turned against his as they thought. The rough calluses of his hand feel good against sensitive skin, but in their place he’s imagining long, steel fingers tipped with talons that could shred him to pieces. He thinks about how cold metal would feel against his shaft instead, sighs, and switches hands, bringing the prosthetic up to rub against instead.

 

He thinks of long legs, the powerful muscle fiber that made Jack able to run up the sides of buildings. Sam licks his lips, thinks about pressing Jack’s thighs together so he can stick his cock in the tight space between them. He thinks about Jack’s feet, flexible like hands when they grab his sword to thrust into a cyborg’s unsuspecting chest- he thinks about Jack jerking him off with them, coming all over those flexible rubber heels.

 

He thinks about Jack’s mouth between his legs. That mouth, half steel, looks dangerous- but on the inside, it would be warm and wet, and that tongue that so loved to mouth off about justice would feel so  _ good _ tracing the stiff flesh of his shaft. What would Jack look like with his mouth full of cock, Sam wonders. Does he have a gag reflex? Would he like getting his face fucked?

 

He thinks about fucking Jack’s face, and his mind conjures up the most literal interpretation of it possible.

 

Jack’s eye, already ruined. Disabling his pain inhibitors to cut it out the rest of the way, watching Jack squirm and whimper as Sam severed real, human muscle and nerve to remove the useless organ from his head. Bleeding from the new hole, tears running red down his cheeks. Opening his lovely, perfect mouth to ask for mercy, only to be slapped across the face, because Sam already knows what he wants. He wants more. He wants to defile Jack’s few remaining organic parts.

 

He pulls his cock out slowly, making sure Jack can see it- as much as he can still see, now. With a humorless laugh, he smacks it against the side of Jack’s face. Jack glares.

 

_ Get it over with,  _ he snarls, and in his fantasy, Sam smiles, the tacit permission all he needs to peel the cut remains of Jack’s eyelid back and shove his dick inside the empty socket. Jack doesn’t make a sound, not at first- not until Sam grabs him by the hair and shoves himself all the way in, until his balls are resting heavily against Jack’s cheek. Then, he sobs.

 

If he were thinking a little straighter, he might realize that something like that is unrealistic. If he tried to fuck Jack’s skull like that, he’d hit bone, and then brain, and run out of room. Sam isn’t thinking straight, though- he’s thinking about how the bloody, pulpy insides of Jack’s head feel like around his cock, gore oozing down the shaft and trickling down his thigh. With every hard snap of his hips, Jack bleeds a little more. His other eye is red with tears, and if he could, Sam would lick them away.

 

He thinks about coming inside, marking this particular part of Jack as  _ his.  _ He thinks of tracking down every doctor who’s ever been inside of Jack’s body and killing every single one of them for assuming they had the right to touch him like that. A stab of possessiveness hits him as his stomach clenches up and he comes, spurting heavy over his artificial palm and between his fingers.

 

The high powerful, but brief and Sam comes down from it with a feeling of shame twisting his guts into knots. 

 

Fantasizing about fucking your rival was one thing. Fantasizing about…  _ that… _ was another altogether.

 

He wipes off his prosthetic with a tissue, and rolls over in his bed, knowing already that he’s not going to be able to sleep.

**Author's Note:**

> [sam looks at his hand] im so fucked up


End file.
